


your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

by whiffingbooks



Series: Fake Dating AU [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Ginny is not a damsel in distress, I'm bad at writing smut, Mutual Pining, One in danger, Sharing a Bed, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2020-07-21 08:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19998655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiffingbooks/pseuds/whiffingbooks
Summary: “We do have a plan, Miss Weasley. A plan which doesn’t involve so much violence and mutilation.”Harry looks at him sharply. “You do?”Robards clasps his hands together. “I’ll cut right down to the chase. Everyone is well aware of you two dating. You have stirred quite an interest in the public. Since Mr Potter is an Auror and you two are already an item, the best person to protect you is Mr Potter. As such, the most suitable course of action will be both of you moving in together.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry for the wait. This work turned out to be a multi-chapter fic because there's too much information and I'm bad at putting my thoughts down in anything. This is the sequel to my fake dating AU and boy, things are heating up!
> 
> Have fun reading this and don't forget to leave kudos!  
> (Otherwise, I'll literally slit your throat.)

Sometimes he forgets that Ginny is a famous Quidditch star. Not like he forgets that she’s an accomplished person but that she is more likely to be targeted for her fame. In his head, she’s so undeniably  _ Ginny _ (by which he means she’s so lovable) that he forgets the whole world doesn’t see her the way he does.

That’s the reason why the letters make him nearly blow up Robards’s office.

“Why wasn’t I told that  _ my _ very existence is being threatened?  _ And Harry, if you don’t stop your pacing, I’ll be the one who blasts this entire office to dust! _ ” Ginny keeps her hands on either side of her hip and glares at him reminiscent of her mother to the degree he dutifully shuffles towards the settee placed in the corner.

Giving an affirmative nod as if she’s pleased by his obedience, she turns her glare towards the slightly pale PR manager. “Now I’d  _ love  _ to know your reasons for not relaying to me this  _ very  _ important piece of information which resulted in my evening being cut short.”He resists the urge to snort.

Their evening being cut short is an  _ understatement. _

The moment Harry had regained his consciousness; he was struck by the complete chaos around him. All the muggles were shrieking and crying. He saw his aunt being carried away by his red-faced uncle. Dudley, on the other hand, was trying to calm everyone down. Before he could do anything, he saw a mass of red hair wriggle in his periphery. Ginny sat up groaning; there was a gash on her hand where a piece of glass had grazed her. He had quickly risen and taken charge of the whole situation until the Aurors arrived dressed as Scotland Yard. Robards collected both of them and left the Obliviators to do their job. He was very sorry to see his cousin’s house nearly demolished but the moment Ginny’s evacuation from the site was more important.

Both of them were very confused when his Head apparated them to the Auror Office and led them to his chambers. Even more perplexing was when Ginny’s PR manager had arrived with a guilty look and informed them that the attack was targeted towards her.

However, when he learnt that her manager had not bothered to inform her about the threatening mail she has been receiving for months, he had nearly blown up.

“Look, Ginny,” Mr Nequam squeaks, “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Plenty of people receive hate mail and threats. If we lost our minds every time we received any backlash, we would have to choose a profession where people never gave you a second look. So I didn’t tell you. Come on now, it’s some loony guy. The world is full of them.” He chuckles at it, hoping to soften Ginny but in vain.

She raises her eyebrow then snorts lightly. “Because of your presumptions that  _ ‘loony’ _ managed to track me down in a muggle neighbourhood and attack all of them. So not only your incompetence nearly cost me my life, it violated the Statute of Secrecy. Good job.”

The squeaking man opens his mouth indignantly but she raises her hand to stop him. “As much as I’d love to hear your defence, Harry and I have to discuss important things with the Head Auror. We’ll talk later.” MR. Nequam stares at everyone for a minute in disbelief before quietly scurrying out of the office.

“You do attract the most interesting people, Miss Weasley,” Robards comments dryly.

She plops down next to Harry and tugs her cloak closely towards her body. He notices her shivering so ignoring his inner voice, he wraps his arms around her. Ginny smiles softly and buries her head in his neck before replying.

“I’m so going to fire his arse. If I don’t do that, the least I’ll do is not renew his contract. He’s the most incompetent PR manager I’ve ever seen and I’ve met Rita Skeeter.”

His boss gives a rare smile before appointing his serious demeanour. "You are in danger though. If this person, presumably male, followed you to a Muggle location without an Auror knowing about his whereabouts. The letters he has sent over the past few months are frankly alarming, given the circumstances. Please go through them. I’m afraid they are sensitive." With that, he levitates a cardboard box and sends it over to them.

For the next hour, he wishes that murder is legal because reading the threats, leaves him anxious at the same time downright furious.

The first few, dating back to six months ago, are quite harmless. The bastard comments on her hair and her figure and how she's sexy and should meet up with him. The letters start becoming disturbing three months later. The stalker gives a list of things he would do to her, quite explicitly, and reiterates that he knows where she lives. Not until one month later the letters give the hint that he has been following her. He gives accurate date and time description on instances where she was running some errands or visiting someone. The last was delivered on the date of the attack, a blank paper with the words  _ 'Look out for the boy toy' _ printed on top of it.

Harry feels sick; he feels nauseous and so guilty because he is supposed to be a good Auror, someone who must be aware that the love of his life is being stalked by a dangerous man for the past few months. The look Robards is giving him is unreadable. Shame rises in him but he shoves it aside. He looks at Ginny, who has turned pale as she read the letter in an unwavering manner.

"Gin?" She doesn't respond for a few minutes. Alarm bells ring in his head, but he shakes them off. 

She suddenly leaps out of the sofa and starts pacing across the room; deep lines etched on her face, the familiar Weasley temper seconds away from making an appearance. She pierces Robards with a look so sharp that even he grimaces slightly.

“And what can we do? This lecher has been following me for days apparently, and I am completely at his mercy now. Find him and then deliver him to me! I am going to rip off his hands, and shove them right up his-“

“We do have a plan, Miss Weasley. A plan which doesn’t involve so much violence and mutilation.”

Harry looks at him sharply. “You do?”

Robards clasps his hands together. “I’ll cut right down to the chase. Everyone is well aware of you two dating. You have stirred quite an interest in the public. Since Mr Potter is an Auror and you two are already an item, the best person to protect you is Mr Potter. As such, the most suitable course of action will be both of you moving in together.”

His words extinguish all noises in the office. Harry meets Ginny’s eyes and by her horrified gaze, he is reassured that none of them had contemplated this when they started this arrangement. A few months together and already moving in- if he didn’t know better, he would have said that the stalker is a matchmaker straight from hell.

“And it would be for the best if we tell no one about this development,” His boss clarifies.

Guess things just keep getting more and more complicated.

* * *

“What do we tell them?”

Ginny’s voice is soft and hesitant, a great contrast to how business-like she had sounded when Robards briefed them about their plan of attack and living arrangements. He, himself, is still reeling from the meeting. Everything is moving too fast, but he wants her to know that he doesn’t blame her for anything.

“We tell them that we are moving together in your flat because we want to. Not mine, because you don’t like Grimmauld Place even after its transformation. It should be simple, shouldn’t it?”

She chuckles. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I’m so sorry for dragging you into all of this. It’s my fault; that blasted day I should’ve kept my mouth quiet and told Ron the truth.”

“Hey, slow down,” he pulls her hand gently and makes her halt. They have apparated a mile away from the Burrow so that they can relax their nerves by walking for a bit. However, it seems like Ginny’s nerves are far from settling.

“I don’t regret any of it, you know. These past few months have been amazing. We’re going to be alright. That prick is soon going to be arrested and mutilated under your command and everything will be okay.”

She continues to look worried, so he cups her face with both of his hands and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes remain closed while she leans into him. Her sweet-smelling hair brushes against his nose and he feels stupidly grateful- grateful that he has this with her. This something that they have neither of them has labelled yet. He wants to live with her; he wants to see how she looks like in her home, the place where she can be as vulnerable as she wants. He wants to see her in rumpled clothes, blearily looking at him in the early morning, waiting for any cold drink to shock her into alertness.

He also wants to find that bastard and set him on fire.

Ginny moves away from his embrace but doesn’t let go of him. Instead, she keeps a hand wrapped around his waist and urges him on.

“Let’s go and face the ire of my mother and brothers.”

He pauses. “Um, ire? What do you mean by it? Why are they going to be angry?”

She gives him a disbelieving look before shaking her head twice.

“The only girl and the youngest daughter in the family approaches her parents and protective brothers to inform them that she will be moving in with her boyfriend of four months. How do you think they will react to her living in ‘sin’?”

“What’s so sinful about that?”

She shoots him a bewildered look before sighing loudly, “Sex. Everyone will think we’re shagging.”

“What?” He stops walking. “Wha- I mean, how dare- No! I-I- No! We _ \- What _ ?”

“Yes, Harry. Hardcore shagging, day and night. My family will think you’re pounding into their little girl every day.”

“ _ Ginny! _ ”

Suddenly, she smirks and examines him from head to toe, before biting her lip. He nearly dies.

“On second thoughts, I might let them think that.” She lowers her voice and whispers in his ear, sending a shiver through his body. “After all, it might end up true.”

Ginny leaves Harry behind and skips ahead, laughing at his dazed and horrified look.

* * *

“Why?”

Harry and Ginny freeze spectacularly the moment they hear the question. They have prepared every type of answer but the reason behind them moving together is not something they have contemplated. Robards hadn’t asked it, probably because he thought they were deeply in love. Harry, himself, had assumed that the fact they were in love would be enough. Apparently not.

Dinner was amazing; Molly had cooked countless dishes and was in a great mood after receiving many praises, Arthur had found an abandoned calculator and happily tinkering with it, Ron and Hermione were, for once, having a light banter and looked blissful, Percy had recently received some recognition from the Minister and boasting about it, Bill and Fleur looked content as Dominique had recently started talking, even George was happily recounting an incident that happened at his shop.

They had stood up together and announced, quite abruptly, “We’re moving in together!”

All the Weasleys had stopped doing everything and stared at the pair of them dazedly. Just when the silence started becoming oppressing, Ron, with all his stupid common sense had asked why. And they can’t answer that simple question.

Ginny laughs nervously, “Why, what?”

“Why do you want to move in together? You have been dating for only a few months and suddenly you want to move in?” Ron’s eyes narrow. “You aren’t pregnant, are you?”

Hermione whacks him lightly as Molly screeches at him for even daring to assume something like this.

After a few minutes of ranting, a very red-faced Molly turns towards them. “But in all seriousness, you aren’t pregnant, right?”

“Mum!”

“What? I’m genuinely curious. It’s very natural to ask two people who want to move in together after only a few months as a couple whether they’re pregnant or not. Don’t you think you are moving too soon? Why don’t you wait a few more months before taking such an important step?”

By the end of Molly’s rant, Ginny has started turning very red and he knows that she will get into a fight with her and the evening will end with their announcement being ignored when he gets the idea. He pulls Ginny close to him and kisses her hair before sighing loudly.

“There is a reason why we are moving together so suddenly.” Everyone stops talking immediately and looks at him.

He meets Ginny’s questioning gaze head-on and smiles slightly to let her know he has this covered. Her shoulders relax.

Turning towards the crowd, he continues. “Ginny and I were attacked by a person who has been threatening her for the past six months.” Everyone gasps. “After the attack, we realized that we are wasting our time on meaningless things. We care for each other deeply and I can’t wait to start something concrete with her.”

“What do you mean you were attacked? What happened?” Ron asks sharply. “And why wasn’t I informed about it?”

He briefs Ron about the stalker and his growing boldness as Molly tearfully fusses after them. Ginny remains quiet except for a few reassurances given to her mother that she’s fine. Molly then turns her attention towards him and nearly suffocates him with a tight hug.

“Thank god, you were there! I can’t even begin to imagine what that monster would have done had he found Ginny alone.” She sniffs before increasing the force behind her hug.

“I can’t either.” He mutters as he watches Percy fussing after Ginny. She meets his gaze and blushes; a blush reminiscent of his Second Year days, when he had stayed with the Weasleys.

He untangles himself from Molly and catches Arthur’s frown. He is staring at his daughter with a worry that Harry had last seen a year after Fred’s death, on George’s birthday.

“I won’t let anything happen to her Arthur.” He promises. “That creep will be caught and dealt with.”

Arthur massages his temples. “To be honest, I’m more worried about whether you two will be okay.”

Harry scrunches up his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Harry,” he says patiently, “I know you both care for each other a lot. You both are much happier than I’ve ever seen. But you must remember that relationships only work when both of you communicate with each other. Even the best relationships fail when the people rush into things without properly talking it out with their partners.”

Harry thinks that he gives him a rather knowing look but his attention is diverted when Ginny approaches them and slips a hand across his waist. He looks at her questioningly but she merely smiles up at him shyly and snuggles up to him. His heart almost stops at the gesture but he forces himself to listen to George, who stands up and raises his glass.

“For whatever reason, not ruling out pregnancy, of course-“

“George!”

“Come on, Mum. Lighten up a little. Anyway, I raise my glass and urge others to do the same to Harry and Ginny for moving in together!”

Everyone raises their glasses and shout ‘Cheers!’ Ginny, on the other hand, tugs him closer and bends down his head. Before he can even process what’s happening, she kisses him deeply. He throws all caution to the wind and drags her as close as humanly possible, at the same time kissing her like a man thirsting for water. He vaguely hears George saying something about a preview of what will happen when they start ‘living in sin’ and Ron making gagging sounds but he doesn’t care.

Even if none of this real, he’ll take whatever they have.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry moves in with Ginny. Shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first venture in the multi chapter fic so please be patient with me. This is uncharted territory and the only reason I could update is because TheDistantDusk is a goddess in disguise. 
> 
> Fake dating tropes are like crack to me, so I promise not to abandon this fic. I've put too much effort on the plot. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and if you guys wanna know more, find me on tumblr!   
> Peace out!

Living with Ginny will become sweet torture, something that he predicts during the process of moving in.

Ron, Hermione and George help them bring his things to Ginny's flat. His best friends question him incessantly about his refusal to move into Grimmauld Place, which ends up making him annoyed.

"It's not the place I want to start something in."

He feels bad snapping at them, but can't make himself regret his truthful words when he spots Ginny blush like she used to do it in her first year. 

He brings many of his things to her flat, but still keeps a lot of his stuff (mostly furniture) over at his barely inhabited and sparsely furnished apartment. He tries not to focus on the single bed that they shall be sharing because they have to keep the deception of dating up, while the others help them move in. He distracts himself from thinking about the loo situated just in front of their shared bed and how he can see a naked Ginny the moment she exits the shower. His hands fumble a lot when he puts his clothes in the wardrobe, nearly losing his poorly held control when he comes across a pair of vibrant red knickers. Dropping the pair as if it suddenly burst into flames, he keels over and grasps his knees tightly to steady himself against the rising emotions that he has kept in control over the past few months. It takes such a long time for him to calm down that Ron calls out for him, probably noticing his silence.

"Oi! Harry! Where the hell did you go?” A muffled shout can be heard in the background. Ron pays no attention to it. “Come on now, we have to tidy up the dining room. Oh and a great best friend you are, never telling me pineapple on pizzas rock.” A muffled laugh followed by ‘Your opinion means nothing to me, George!’ before he continues. “Anyway, Hermione ordered pizza for dinner. If you don't come here fast, I won't be held accountable for scarfing down your portion too."

Fighting down his embarrassment at nearly being caught with his best mate's sister's unmentionables in his hands (ignoring that his back is to the doorway so his chances of being caught are very slim), he stutters outs, “Coming!”. Immediately putting back the clothes, he power-walks off towards the other four.

Ginny's flat is a tight fit for the two of them. There are two bedrooms, two bathrooms, one big space which has both the living room and kitchen and a small vestibule. As a result, the four adults look like they have been sitting very uncomfortably in the limited space. 

"I thought you guys needed help in arranging furniture'', he asks upon seeing that his friends are all eating pizza and lazing around, clearly not doing the aforementioned job of tidying the space. 

With a little bit of sauce smeared across her face, which he shouldn't find as adorable as he does, Ginny looks up at him innocently and threateningly points a slice. "Well, you see dear, we have finished moving. Your stuff is in and before you start about how the place is a bit messy, I want to remind you that a little bit of mess is the new fashion and I thrive on it. "

He snorts and picks up a slice before sidling up to Ginny and in a smooth motion, puts her on top of his lap, ignoring her sudden squeak of surprise. 

After chatting for a while (in which he finds out too much information about his friends' sex lives), George stands up and wipes his hands on his worn-out jeans, not paying much attention to Hermione when she makes a disgusted face. "As much as I would like to see you two couples romancing each other, I have to go back to the shop. I left Verity in charge, but the poor girl cannot hope to deal with the incessant demands of the kids. Plus, I did promise Angelina that I might drop by and watch that muggle play she has been prattling about for ages. Adios, my friends! “

With that, he disapparates. 

They chat and goof around for a while, filling up their stomachs with leftover pizza and butterbeer. Before long, Harry notices Ron and Hermione trying to give each subtle amorous glances, but failing spectacularly, that turns his stomach and he makes shooing gesture. Hermione blushes whereas Ron gives him a wide, unabashed grin and tugs her arm before leaving abruptly. 

A silence descends on the two individuals sitting and consciously avoiding a very much needed conversation. He is warmed by Ginny's body heat and feels very reluctant to move from his position. A few minutes later, Ginny mumbles something unintelligible. 

“What?” He strains his neck to listen to her. She takes a deep breath before meeting his eyes with a steely glance. 

“We should head to bed now. It is rather late now and I have practice tomorrow. I really don't want to make Gwenog lose her temper again."

He promptly freezes up the moment she talks about going to bed. In his head, he has always envisioned himself in domestic bliss with her, but even in his most outrageous fantasies, he has not bothered with the possible awkward discussion that might precede when two friends are stuck in a not-so-platonic situation. Moreover, he doesn't want to talk to her about this. He wants to carry her to their bed, throw her on top of it and pepper her face, neck and other usually covered places in kisses and love bites.

She misunderstands the expression on his face and lets out a nervous laugh.

“Don’t look so horrified, Potter. I promise that I won't throw you off the bed. Can't say the same for hogging the blankets though." 

“And who told you that?” He shoots back without processing his words, then winces. Ginny merely looks at him before dragging herself to the kitchen. 

“My ponce of an ex-boyfriend. Maybe that's why he didn't last. Refusal to share your blanket is a form of crime". She frowns before shrugging. "Good riddance." 

He lets her leave before getting up and trudging towards the bedroom. Even he has to wake up early the next day. The flat is in Holyhead and quite far from the Ministry. Already, his stomach grumbles at the thought of making so many Apparition stops. 

‘You’re officially off the Weasley case’, Robards had said, ‘but you will be present in her vicinity all the time.' Meaning, he has been put on desk duty, except his time is spent in the company of his 'vulnerable girlfriend'.

He hadn’t protested, but Ginny had put her foot down on the topic of accompanying her to work every day. Seeing her rabid snarl and twitching fingers, his boss had stopped pushing her on that matter. So, Harry has to make weekly visits to the stadium before apparating to the Ministry.

Hurriedly, he changes into a shirt and joggers. Rushing into the loo, he finishes his bedtime ritual and dashes towards the bed. He has never really liked the cold, especially the chilliness of December. He wraps the blankets around him as he starts going through the new report. Another bloody Imperiused seller.

“Well, don’t you look cosy”, Ginny’s sarcastic voice reaches his ears as he tries to concentrate on the case file. He looks up and gawks for a second as he quickly slams the file shut.

“Can’t sleep with pants on. Nudge over, will you?” Dressed in a full-sleeved Harpies shirt and pink knickers, she bends down to get something from her backpack and he almost lets out a whimper. He closes his eyes and burrows himself under the covers, opening them once he feels her getting under the blanket. This is pure torture, he thinks. No one should have such beautiful freckles on their legs.

He clears his throat when a stifling silence settles over them. "What are your thoughts about your upcoming match against Tornadoes?" His inquiry sounds desperate, but Ginny doesn't mind.

“You’re adorable, you know.” She lets out a laugh and he senses her trying to huddle closer.

“Really?”

“Hm. If I wasn’t so goddamn sleepy, I’d show you how your adorableness absolutely delights me.” A sigh.

“Ready for tomorrow?” He turns towards her.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. I hope that prick is getting smacked by all the people he has ever tried to harass. A real pillock." 

He hums in agreement. He is seconds away from falling into a deep slumber when he is jolted awake by a chilly sensation.

“Harry?” A cold hand touches his navel. An unexpected bolt of warmth runs up his spine.

“Yeah.” His voice sounds weak. Control, the inner often ignored voice seems to yell at him.

She lets out a sigh and withdraws her hand. Before he can bemoan at the loss of her touch, he feels himself being enveloped by a pair of hands.

“You’re so warm”, she snuggles up to him and throws a bare leg on top of his. “I’m not letting you go tonight." With that, her hands relax and her immediate deep breaths assure him that she has fallen asleep.

He lets out a small chuckle. Weasleys and their ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime. He thinks about rolling her over but abandons the thought. He reaches for his wand carefully. Pointing it at the lantern, he extinguishes it. 

In the dark, he intertwines himself with her as tightly as he can and falls asleep to the rhythm of her steady heartbeat.

* * *

“Do we really like peanut butter?” Harry’s voice sounds muffled but he’s sure Ginny will understand what he’s saying. After all, she is the one who grew up with Ron. “Because I just found a very strange looking container marked ‘Wendell’s Magical Peanut Butter’ and the thing inside does not resemble peanut butter in the slightest.”

He gives up on the extremely disorganized cupboard and stands up. His neck feels stiff after an hour of constant glaring at the products kept in the lower cupboards. Massaging his neck to remove the kinks, he keeps the questionable commodity on the table, in Ginny’s line of sight, who is currently painting her nails a deep red colour. 

“I dislike peanut butter to an infinite degree. That must be the reason why this horror has been sitting in the ‘Doom’. You can throw it away. It was a rather unpleasant gift from Morgan.” She replies nonchalantly, her concentration on her nails to such a degree he is sure she will not even notice him keeping back the jar.

He frowns at her and tries not to focus on how adorable she looks with her nose all crinkled up and eyebrows furrowed. "You have a cabinet marked 'Doom' which houses all the things that you dislike? Why don't you just throw them away? "

"Mum taught me never to throw stuff away." She shoots back. 

"As opposed to keeping them until they're rotten and looks more horrific than your Aunt in racy makeup? "

“It means that I tried, but it didn’t impress me much. I would love to ask you about that detail of my Aunt when we get more time. Now, hush and get ready for work.” She winks at him before leaning down to varnish her nails immaculately. He shakes her head before moving towards the bathroom.

He has to conduct a very thorough search at the Harpies stadium, so he will be accompanying Ginny to work on that day. He is just planning to wear casual clothes when he hears a muted shout that sounds vaguely like ‘ _Luna_!’. He hears animated chatter from the other room which makes him smile. He fishes out the Magical pager given to every Auror and finds a message from Robards.

'Potter, send me the Hatch murders’ paperwork as soon as possible.'

Harry fumbles about for a few minutes before finding the needed documents under a pair of pumps. Shaking his head in exasperation, he calls for Neanderthal, the owl he had gotten for Ginny on her seventeenth birthday, and attaches the documents to his leg.

“Now, don’t you lose them. Robards can be as charming as a Hungarian Horntail while collecting paperwork. You do have the sort of attitude that makes him tick." Neanderthal gives him a look that says _do you think I'm an idiot_ and flies off. The ruddy owl received his name after hours of long lectures about evolution that Hermione bestowed upon Ginny. Needless to say, he proved to be quite a match for his title.

Harry enters the bathroom and strips down. His mood immediately darkens when he remembers the salacious letters. Is that wanker going to show his face during training today? Not likely. He wants to beat him down to a pulp and send his remains to the Weasley family. Stalking and threatening her is a fucked up thing by itself, but that git did it at such a time when Harry had to pretend he is in a real relationship with her. He doesn’t know how long he can hold up the pretence. Every day he comes closer to pushing Ginny against the wall and snogging her passionately. On top of that, she has started to make things a lot unclear by touching him constantly and placing lingering kisses which makes his toes curl. The nonverbal rule of ‘no kissing on lips’ has been broken and the consequences are both extremely frustrating and overwhelming.

He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Green eyes, darkened skin, unruly hair and an assortment of scars- nothing extraordinary. What can Ginny possibly find attractive in him? She has always been popular with the boys, especially after she got over her crush over him. Moreover, he once heard Hermione say Ginny makes the first move. Has she ever approached him like that? No, which made her feelings for him quite transparent.

He snorts when he feels the usual apathy settle over him.

“You do know how to cheer up. Another reason why Ginny Weasley will never feel anything for you." Especially since her personality is like a mirror image of the sun.

He quickly jumps into the shower and tries not to get distracted by the shampoo bottle kept in front of him. He starts humming one of the 'Tramping Troll’s number one hits. _I_ _wonder whether the shampoo smells different in the bottle_. 

He loses quickly to his temptation and opens up the bottle to get a whiff. 

That turns out to be a mistake. If he can’t handle Ginny’s scent lingering on him without taking numerous cold showers, how can he think to control himself when her scent slams into him in concentration?

He gasps for breath, immediately reaching for the towel kept on the towel holder but his hand comes up empty. He blinks a couple of times to see past the blurriness due to the absence of his glasses and finds the holder lacking any towel.

"Just my fucking luck," he curses under his breath and opens the bathroom door carelessly.

One day, he will get used to living with someone with whom shares a bed and wardrobe. In his defence, it was only the second day and his senses had been numbed by a full blast of the Ginny fragrance. He swears he can even visualise the flowers. To avoid any awkwardness, he should’ve grabbed a towel before entering the bathroom or at the least, asked for one instead of barging outside starkers.

If he had, he wouldn’t have to face a red-faced Ginny whose jaw was literally hanging open. He freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

Her face flushes. She still blushes how she used to. Her cheeks redden first, the redness reaching her neck. Till how much does it go? He squashes that thought, storing it for pondering later when he isn’t starkers.

He sees her gaze sweep over his entire body before settling on the juncture between his legs. His chest tightens. Urging himself to not let her get any idea how much she is exciting him, how her gaze is setting him on fire, he shuffles towards the neatly folded towel kept on the bed. His eyes dart towards her face. He nearly loses control of his towel, when he catches her biting her bottom lip furiously and letting out jerky breaths.

“I-um”, he chokes out, “Sorry. Forgot the towel.” 

Ginny startles out from her stupor and lets out a breathless laugh. “Don’t worry about it."

Silence follows. He fidgets with his jeans, hoping she’ll leave him to his embarrassment. Ginny must have thought of something similar because he feels her move from her dazed position. However, she doesn't leave the room like he thinks she ought to. Instead, she starts moving towards him. 

“Gin?” Her expression is a lot different from the one she had moments ago and it thrills him immensely. Her eyes are blazing and her lips look redder than they ever had before. His cock twitches and his abdomen is suddenly filled with heat. Slowly she sidles up to him, with her face still flushed but determined. She slides her hands around his neck and tugs him down to her lips.

His brain stops working the moment their lips touch. This kiss is like no other they have ever shared before. The pace is blistering and he is vaguely aware of being pushed on the bed. His fingers run through her thick mane, while hers tug at the small hairs at the back of his neck. The sensation of her writhing against him is too overwhelming as he struggles to match the vigour with which she's clawing at him. She feels wonderful against him, her entire torso pressed against him at all the right angles. Instinctively, he lets one of his hands wander down her back and cup her bum.

She lets out a whimper which makes his cock throb and he grinds against her. Ginny immediately straddles him, biting down on his bottom lip. He moans out and taking the opportunity, she slips her tongue inside. He nearly combusts when she thrusts against him.

The kiss heats up to the point both of their hands roam around each other's bodies to satisfy the burning hunger for more. At the back of his mind warning bells ring for him to stop but he ignores them. _Stop. Stop. Stop._ He keeps on ignoring them until he feels her small hand trailing down his front and reaching for the towel. He rips off his lips from her and gently removes her hand from the uncharted territory, his gasps too loud in the ensuing silence.

She looks devastatingly beautiful with her hair all mussed up and lips puffed up from the snogging. Her shirt is halfway open, giving him a glimpse of all the freckles he has only allowed himself to dream about. Her gaze is heated as if she’s seconds away from throwing him on the bed and having her way with him. Merlin, that's hot.

Taking a deep breath, he untangles himself from her. “I should get dressed. The shower’s free if you want." His voice sounds hoarse.

Ginny gives him an unreadable look which makes him sweat. She tentatively smiles before jumping on her feet and collecting her things haphazardly. He stands up shakily before reaching for his clothes when he feels a hand grab his shoulder.

“Wear the uniform. I want to show off how good you look in that.” Her breathless voice whispers against his ear, her lips touching his earlobe. Gooseflesh erupts all over him as he nods nonchalantly.

“And Harry?” He glances at a smirking Ginny who casually pulls off her shirt and gives him an eyeful of glorious cleavage enclosed in a lacy bra. “I’m contemplating a towel ban in the flat. Feel free to forget yours from now on." 

With a giggle, she leaves him gaping after her. His knees buckle and he plops down on the bed. Unbelievable. Can she-?

He needs time to think about her behaviour. Moreover, he needs to have his everyday wanking ritual which he had skipped. With a sigh, he makes his way to the wardrobe to take out his uniform. Might as well, keep his girlfriend's request. 

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The beach is very beautiful. On any other day, he would have been tempted to bring Ginny here, where they could talk, laugh and maybe even cuddle out of the public's eyes. But the monstrosity lying in the middle of the beach has ruined every charm that the beach possessed. The town feels desolate too. He feels pity as he looks at the man._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> I had a hard time continuing this fic. This is my first foray into multi-fics and I'm completely unprepared. Good thing NaruKoibito had my back with her beta prowess. Otherwise, I would have probably not been able to finish anything related to this fic!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it. You can find me on [whiffingbooks](https://whiffingbooks.tumblr.com/).

"Do you think that he might show up?" Ginny's voice startles him out his reverie. He looks up to see her casually leaning against the wall, seemingly indifferent, but he knows her enough to understand what is going on inside her head.

Harry shakes his head before stepping back from the last loo. "I don't think he will show his face this fast. Buggers like these always bide their time before lashing out. I remember this case that took place in Liverpool. The stalker waited in the bathroom for two days for the girl's arrival. Nasty homecoming gift, I say. On that disturbing note, I'm pleased to announce that your changing room isn't jinxed. Gwenog should be happy enough." He adds a light ward before making his way towards the field. She falls into step beside him.

"I thought Gwenog was going to kill Nequam when we informed her about our stalker." She laughs lightly as she slips her hand around his waist. "Then again, she takes quidditch as seriously as my mum takes her Sunday roasts, and going to Azkaban might have been a problem."

Harry's wand beeps. He waves it and the words 'Conwy Morfa beach, Llandudno' flash on his left hand before disappearing.

"Seems like I'm stuck here in Wales for at least today," he says excitedly.

Ginny rolls her eyes, but he sees her hiding her smile. "Bad choice. Soggy, wet winters are not very attractive."

"Well, I think going after your fake girlfriend is a very attractive thing to do."

She lightly punches his arm before snuggling up to him. He counts that as a win.

They descend the stairs, entirely visible to the team gathered in a cluster on the wet field. The weather is cold, with snow coating the ground, but Quidditch players seldom wait around for good weather conditions. He wants to complain to the team manager and owner about the security risks in playing when the winds are strong and chilly enough to cause physical harm, but he holds his tongue. The League matches are still going on, and the day after tomorrow, the Harpies are supposed to play Puddlemere so they want to exploit their home advantage the best they can. Any worry that he has for Ginny has to be stifled until the match is over and they can return to the Burrow for the Christmas break.

"So, Potter," Gwenog Jones stands in front of everyone with her arms closed. Harry has faced very few people in his life who intimidate him like the Harpies team captain. Gwenog is tall - as tall as him - with a build fit for a beater and arms that look ready to rip off his head. She no longer plays actively, but no one wants to mess with her. He honestly doesn't hate the woman, but her strict and temperamental nature makes him feel as if he has done something wrong. "Did you find anything?"

"No. I've checked every nook and corner. Didn't find anything. Better to stay on your toes, though."

She ignores his advice. "Then my girls can go to practice? Or do you have to conduct a further investigation?" By her tone, he can guess that any further investigation would not be appreciated and would be opposed quite vehemently.

He shakes his head and untangles himself from Ginny. "Until we unearth a clue, we won't be investigating anyone." He cracks a smile at the unimpressed women. "I shall leave you to your practice. Puddlemere won't know what hit them."

"Wilda definitely won't!" Lucinda harrumphs. 

A cloud of gloom settles on the players as Gwenog glares at the Vice-Captain for bringing down the team morale. He cringes; even he is aware of the taboo imposed on Wilda's name. Ginny clenches her jaw but gives no other visible reaction.

"Enough talk about the traitor!" Gwenog barks out. "We will face Puddlemere and we WILL make sure they regret stealing away our Chaser. Now, get off of our stadium, Potter!" 

She continues yelling at the other women as Ginny leads him to the Apparition point. As they pass through the gate, he nods at Sylvia, the security guard stationed at the East section. It's a great advantage to have a good connection with the staff.

"I believe that Wilda is still hated greatly?" Harry asks her as soon as they reach their destination. He should question Sylvia and the others about any possible loiterers soon. The wards are very difficult to get through, but there are hundreds of ways for a dedicated person to sneak in. 

Something tells him that this guy is quite dedicated to his obsession.

"Wilda chose to go behind everyone's back. When you're in a team, you need to trust others. Otherwise, it's just you playing against everyone." 

For a moment, Ginny looks sad and strangely, wistful.

"I wonder--" she starts before changing her mind, "--nothing. She made her choice. There's nothing else to be done."

"You okay?"

She rolls her eyes as she smiles. "I'm fine. You need to go now. You'll be late, and you'd have to hear Samson be gobby."

"Oogway is always a wanker." He doesn't want to let it go, her expression troubling him slightly. But he reckons that if she wants to tell him, she will tell him.

"Okay. I'm off then. Use the mirror in case you need me." He starts to turn around to apparate when he sees her pout, her eyes twinkling.

"No goodbye kiss? What an affectionate fake boyfriend you are, Potter!" She sighs exaggeratedly. "And here I thought you were a romantic. Alas! The heartbreak is going to end me. No wonder they say that romance is dead."

Harry tugs on her hand as she starts to head back. He only has a glimpse of her bright eyes widening in surprise, before he kisses her.

It hasn't been more than an hour since they last snogged each other, but to him, it feels as if ages have gone by. The sensation of her lips intoxicates him, making him feel light-headed all of a sudden. But he doesn't dare to let go. He lets out all of the frustration and passion mounting between them into the kiss. Ginny gasps as he slides his mouth over hers. Soon, she's kissing him back, matching him in fervour. He hesitantly licks her lips, begging for entrance, which she grants after letting out a moan that does nothing to calm him down. His tongue explores her mouth, every taste seems sweeter than the one before.

_ Gosh! Does she always taste like this?  _ he wonders but loses his train of thought as Ginny rolls her tongue. Their breakfast feels as if it happened days ago, his memory fixating on capturing every single move and sound that the girl in his arms is making.

He's vaguely aware of his surroundings. He knows that their snog is bordering on indecent. But he doesn't care for the time being. She scratches his neck, which sends a shiver down his body. He cups her head and kisses her thoroughly, biting her lips after each kiss. He is rock hard with want, his senses so far removed from his body that he grinds against her to relieve at least a little bit of the torture. His actions elicit a moan from her, her husky voice gasping out his name. He wants to drag her away to the nearest flat surface. He wants her to keep on looking at him with her blazing eyes. He wants her fully, every inch of her laid bare in front of him as he ravishes her. He wants to...He wants...

"WEASLEY! STOP DRY-HUMPING YOUR BOYFRIEND! GET YOUR FUCKING ARSE HERE RIGHT NOW, OTHERWISE, I WILL BENCH YOU FOR THE REST OF THE SEASON!" 

A bucket of cold water seems to fall on them as they spring apart. He surreptitiously adjusts his Auror robes, while Ginny pats down her rumpled kit. At the corner of his eye, he sees Gwenog stride away furiously, but his attention is fixed on the blushing redhead in front of him.

"I should"- she clears her throat -"I should, um, go inside."

"Oh yes!" He nods. "We'll talk later," he adds when he sees her open her mouth. Instinctively, he grabs her hand to give her a handshake before Apparating away, leaving Ginny looking quite bewildered behind him.

* * *

Llandudno is a peaceful place, a place that Harry would usually appreciate if not for the torrent of emotions tormenting him as he apparates to the location. He still feels the sensation of Ginny's tongue rolling in his mouth, her curves pressing into him as they tried to leave no space between them. She looked particularly lovely today, her vivid hair a stark contrast to the white, dull background of Wales.

"Potter?" A gruff voice cuts off his rather inappropriate thoughts. 

_ I'm about to look at a grisly scene right now _ , Harry thinks before shaking his head to clear his head. A difficult task since she is always on his mind, a source of comfort he indulges in now and then.

"Morning, Lewandowicz. Having a good morning?" He starts towards the beach.

Harry has worked with Martin De Lewandowicz quite a few times, and he appreciates the man's tolerance for grisly crime scenes. Harry once saw him hunt down a deer and butcher it without blinking. Sometimes, he wonders whether Martin was weaned on blood.

Until today, that is.

"Not gon’ lie to you, the body--the man, I mean-- or you can even call it a carcass at this point... has cheered me up." Martin's face turns an interesting shade of green that makes Harry halt. Martin looks strangely shaken up.

"Status?" Harry prods gently, hoping to get an answer out of stoic Auror Lewandowicz instead of his visibly traumatized friend.

"Victim is in his early twenties. Caucasian, brunette and average in height. ‘bout 5'8" or 9". Identity is still unknown at this point. The body was found on the beach by Ms Sinha while she was o’ her way to set up her shack for the day. Ms Sinha spotted him and immediately ran to the nearest house to ring up the police."

Harry frowns. "Were there any traces of magic found? I don't think that calling up Aurors is at the top of Muggle police's list."

Martin gives him a shrewd look. "Wait until you see the body. It'll be quite clear. The wizard livin’ here, Mr Rafael Gibbins, took one look at the body and notified the Auror office. Good tha’ he did before all of the Muggles swarmed the body." Martin sounds gruffer than usual, his Welsh accent more prominent than Harry has ever heard before.

"Who's taking the lead in this case?"

"Don't know yet. The Ministry sent for the ones livin’ in Wales. Robards may end up assignin’ the case to another group altogether." Lewandowicz stares at him. "I'm pretty sure if you asked--"

"Which I won't," Harry says sharply. "Also, I'm not sure whether Robards will make me the leader." 

He doesn't tell Martin about the stalker. He and Robards had decided to keep the stalker issue out of the public's eye. As far as everyone knew, he is currently on desk job as part of his punishment for 'not following Dawlish's orders on the Liverpool incident.' Martin nods noncommittedly, but he's sure that Martin has picked up on his reluctance to share his whereabouts.

Harry follows him down the streets. The town is quaint; its Victorian beauty is still present despite the obvious modernization that has taken place. He notices a group of people peering at both of them, their eyes filled with horror, desperation, and curiosity.

"I take it that this is the first time something like this has happened here?" he mutters as he rubs his scar.

"This town is dwt, Potter. People are just tryin’ to make a livin’ 'round here. Bad for business, this murder is." Upon seeing his face, Martin chuckles. "No tourist will be wanting to come after they get the news that a young man was gutted open and his innards were used as decoration."

Harry stops. "What?" He clenches his fists.

Martin sighs. "You'll see the lad now, in a minute. I don't want to upchuck my breakfast, thank you very much."

He stomps away, grumbling under his breath, leaving Harry to wonder what he is getting into.

* * *

Harry had guessed that the sight would be gruesome. He had braced himself for a scene so revolting that he'd be honking out his soul.

But, in his entire existence, he never could have guessed this.

The body is no longer a body; it is now just hands, feet and head attached to a rag of a torso. It looks like a rabid animal had attacked him, except the animal was a cold-blooded maniac who didn't do it for hunger. At least, not the hunger that can be quenched by food.

"Have you been able to identify the body, Ms Sinha?" Harry is rather proud of the fact that his voice still sounds steady.

The small woman quivers. She avoids looking at the body, but that doesn't reduce her distress at all. Harry knows that she has already fainted twice and lost all of the contents of her stomach after she saw the body for the first time, but that hasn't done her much good.

"No, sir. I-I ha-have never...never!" her body shakes with her repressed sobs. "Who...who can do something this-this vile?!"

"We'll do everything to get to the bottom of this. Patil, do you want to take over the questioning?" He gestures towards Parvati, who nods solemnly.

"Why don't you tell me about your daily schedule?" Parvati coaxes the woman. Harry leaves them to it and moves towards the body.

The beach is very beautiful. On any other day, he would have been tempted to bring Ginny here, where they could talk, laugh and maybe even cuddle out of the public's eyes. But the monstrosity lying in the middle of the beach has ruined every charm that the beach possessed. The town feels desolate too. He feels pity as he looks at the man. Pulling on his gloves, he moves towards Martin, who is talking to two police constables.

"Gentlemen." They nod at each other. "I'm part of the Dyfed-Powys. Detective Sergeant Potter." He shakes their hands. "I'd like to investigate the body. Have any of your men bothered the crime scene?"

"No. Sir." The man looks uncomfortable addressing him as a senior. "Has Dyfed-Powys started to give out promotions to teenagers? You don't look very old, Detective." He chuckles, expecting his mortified partner to join in. He stops as soon as he sees Harry's unimpressed face.

"I assure you that my qualification is depending more on my experience and less on my age. Lewandowicz, sweep through the town once to see whether you can spot anything dodgy, will you? Take these Officers with you. If you spot anything that needs immediate attention, call up Detective Sergeant Oogway and me." Harry nods and walks away.

The body doesn't look any better from up close. The victim's face has been left intact -- the only part of the body not visibly marred. The difference between this corpse and the rest of the corpses Harry has seen before is striking. The man's stomach has been torn open, his innards piled up a few feet away from his head in a runic shape, but he doesn't have enough knowledge about runes to decipher its meaning. The horrifying aspect of the body, however, is the runic inscriptions carved onto it. The carvings look deep and precise, the work of a skilled sculptor.

Harry is reminded of the untidy notes that Snape used to write down. Save his face, the man seems to have been used as a blackboard by the sneering and very dead, former Potions Professor.

"Bloody hell, innit Potter?" Auror Oogway smirks up at him. He points to the innards. "Looks like the work of a real character."

Harry scratches his head before kneeling beside the body. "God, this bloke had better been dead when this was done to him." 

A futile hope – most of the victims remain awake when they're being tortured to death.

"Didn't realise I'd be facing such a welcoming sight early on in the morning," Harry gestures all around him, "otherwise, I would have stayed at my flat and caught up on my paperwork and this week's episode of Magical Marvels."

Oogway shakes his shaggy head despairingly. "We shouldn't have ever made you an Auror. First, you come late and then go about chopsing."

Harry chuckles. "Hey, you don't get to insult the one thing on the wireless that brings me joy. You don't miss an opportunity to be a wanker, do you?"

"Bugger professionalism, if you're going to be an arse, I say." Oogway shrugs, not caring about holding back on insulting Harry (he never does). "I think it's rather banging."

Harry shakes his head in amusement. To get back to the issue at hand, he asks, "Any murder weapon?"

"Didn't find anything with the body. Discovered him as naked as the day he was born. Don't even know what I should look for. Something sharp which is capable of tearing open a person's gut. I hope Patil is having better luck than I am." He looks around a bit helplessly.

Harry whistles. "I've seen less damage in the war. He looks like someone started cutting him up for dinner!" He spots Oogway smiling at his incredulous tone and Harry chuckles. "Okay. Shouldn't have said that. Don't speak ill of the dead and all those formalities."

"If someone was shit alive, they're shit dead. Not a big cwtch when you lose your life after spending months being an arsehole, are you?" He coughs and Harry's pretty sure he mumbles Snape's name.

"Wiser words have never been spoken," Harry says, frowning at his partner, "but, why do I get the feeling that it's a dig at me?" Oogway smirks but doesn't reply. Instead, he takes a good look at the body.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say a cult did this. No murderer spends hours carving intricate designs on their victims. Unless they want people to identify them by their MO." Oogway grimaces as he pokes a hand. "But cults are non-existent in this part of the world. All of the loonies are in England. We, Welsh, are quite sensible." He flashes a grin at Harry. The man always tended to joke, even in the face of the most gruesome sights.

"Haha. Do you have identification on this bloke?" Harry slides his hands under the man. "Help me turn the body, Oogway."

Oogway rushes to help him. "You know, you can use my real name. You use Martin's all the time," he complains.

The back of the body looks as gory as the front. The strange designs taunt Harry with their obscurity. "Not when we're on duty." He glances at Oogway and sees him pout. "Okay, Samson. If it shuts you up, I'll do that. Now, let's do our job."

"See? That wasn't too difficult. Although, I might need to remind you again. Your old age seems to be catching up to you."

"You're only two years older than me!" Harry points out, affronted. Oogway waves away his remark offhandedly. "This is bullying and I must say I don't like it."

Oogway smirks at that before turning serious. "No one has identified him yet. Safe to say that he wasn't a part of this town. Might have been a tourist. Dunno, but..." He trails off, a contemplative look on his face.

"What?" 

"I feel as if I've seen him before, which is weird because I mostly go for tabloids and he isn't well known if he was famous," Oogway admits. 

Harry doesn't recall ever seeing this man's face. He looks to be an average-looking bloke, nothing extraordinary about him.

Oogway continues, "Mallory is waiting for us to send the body to her. What do you think about the crime scene? Any clues?"

Harry stands up and pulls off his gloves before dusting off the sand from his robes. "He must have been left here overnight. Bruises on his hands suggest that he was tied up and probably held captive before his death. The strange designs look like runic inscriptions. Some fanatic might have captured him. Now, I need to check one thing." He bends and opens the closed eyelid. He grimaces at the sight. "Just as I feared. Someone has gouged out his eyes. Where are they?" 

Absentmindedly, he thinks of Ron. His best mate would have said something completely sensible yet perfectly hilarious. Harry isn't assigned to this case yet, a relief as he doesn't want to jump into solving one without Ron's calm rationality. But he can feel his sense of curiosity, the indomitable will to know what happened and why they killed him like this rising in him.

It will be hard to walk away from this one. But Ginny's safety is more important.

Oogway looks up at him, flabbergasted. "Eyes? There aren't any eyes!"

Harry glances sharply at him. "What? Are you sure?"

"I think I'd be pretty sure if I spotted a pair of round balls," Oogway remarks sarcastically but digs around in the innards. "No. Nothing. Let me check his gaping hole."

"Samson, don't--" Harry starts to say, just as Oogway forces his hand inside the man's torso. "Oh, well. Is it warm in there?"

"Cozy as fuck. I want to climb inside him, like a baby kangaroo." Oogway rummages around for a few minutes, probably fondling a few of the organs still in his body. "Nah, there isn't anything. Killer probably took those baby blues with them."

Harry waves to Martin, who seems to be walking towards them, the two constables nowhere in sight. "How are you so sure that this man had blue eyes?"

"He has black hair. Black hair goes best with blue eyes. I dig that. And this man needs to have some spectacular feature in his body," Oogway shrugs as if he has said the simplest truth in the world. 

Martin nods at Harry and waves to Parvati on the other side of the beach.  _ Can't even Apparate in front of muggles _ , he laments.

"I'll take your disinterest in my eyes as a compliment," Harry comments wryly. 

He glances around to make sure no muggles are staring before conjuring a stretcher. His team has already set up caution tape around the area and wards to make sure that no muggle can see any magic. But, there's nothing wrong with being overly careful.  _ Paranoid _ , he hears Ginny admonish him, a small smirk on her face. 

_ No, it's called following proper procedure, _ he defends himself to an imaginary Ginny.

"You're a bit too stuck up for my taste. Can't see how your girlfriend likes your attitude." Martin helps him pile up the body on the stretcher and fill up the innards and every other evidence in sealed bags. "On that note, how's the Missus? Still, going strong? Any news that you'd like to share with us?"

Harry’s face turns red upon Ginny being referred to as Missus.

"Do we have to discuss my love life in front of a man who won't ever have one of his own?" Harry complains, still trying to calm his beating heart.

"Aw, come on. It has been weeks since we last saw your paramour. And you're even blushing like a parsnip at her mention. That's lush! So, tell us Potter: is the Harpy still keeping you happy?" On seeing Harry's expression, he relents. "Ginny better be keeping you happy, Potter. I don't want to see your grumpy arse if we fail to solve this one."

"That's what everyone wants to hear from Aurors. The certainty of failure." Harry rolls his eyes. "How about both of you go and badger Mallory into getting an autopsy done by tomorrow? Patil and I will dig around for clues and I will join you once the autopsy is done. Keep me updated. Try to find out why he looked so familiar, Oogway."

"And here we thought you weren't opting for the lead in this case," Martin says unexpectedly, his eyes giving him a pointed look.

Oogway and Lewandowicz nod and levitate the stretcher and the evidence out of the anti Apparition wards before Harry can deny the accusation. He watches them until he hears the sound of someone approaching him.

"Ready, Potter? I don't think this one will be a doozy." Parvati glares at the bloodied scene.

"I hope you've had a heavy breakfast. Because I don't plan on stopping anytime soon," he warns her before handing her one of the rolls Ginny had packed for him. Parvati stares at him as if he has grown a second head, knowing quite well about his complete disregard for appetite once he gets going.

"I always liked that girl," Parvati grabs the roll and opens it, "and that's exactly why you always go for a Weasley. Lavender did it right." She takes a bite and moans.

Harry rolls his eyes before tearing open his lunch. "Let's go."

* * *

Harry stumbles out of the Floo, his mind not at all fit for Apparition. He has spent his entire afternoon investigating the town with Parvati. He stayed for an extra hour, trying to find a magical signature left by their possible killer, but any traces of Apparition or Portkeys or anything suspicious was long gone. He didn’t find any traces of Dark magic either. It didn’t help his rotten mood get any better.

He barely notices an owl waiting for him. Instead, he shrugs off his outer layers and throws it towards the table. He goes and takes a shower before returning to the dining room, his body aching for some relaxation. He jumps when he hears an indignant squawk coming from under his cloak. Lifting it, he sees a barn owl with the fiercest expression. It extends its leg, and as he unfurls the letter, it pecks him before flying out of the flat.

"Ow! Bloody bird," Harry says gruffly. Opening the letter, he notices that it is Oogway's handwriting.

_ Potter, _

_ Come to the Ministry headquarters quickly. Luckily, Mallory started the autopsy right now. She has some bizarre things to tell you, weirder than usual. If you don't hurry, you will miss the show, and we aren't giving you any details, butt. _

_ Yours perfect, _

_ Samson. _

Harry feels a combination of exhaustion and excitement. Parvati and he had spent hours going through the entire town. They have spoken to everyone, scored every inch of the street, and dug through at least a meter of sand. Ginny is supposed to return in two hours (Gwenog has been trying to cut back a few hours so that her players can be fresh during their matches). He wants to greet her and, if possible, talk about the snog this morning.

And if things go better, maybe they can even pick up from where they left off.

Shaking his head, he dons his cloak on. He's dressed in his jeans, and he pulls on his red Auror robes so he won't be called unprofessional. Maybe he can finally talk to Robards about the team lead. He feels a pang when he thinks about having to let go of this case, but he can't let any harm come to Ginny. Not for his sake. 

Also, he won't be able to pick her up tonight. He pens a letter, asking her to Floo with Gwenog and calls up Neanderthal. The owl flies off (not before attempting to bite off his hand), and he is left to mull over the dead man. On a positive note, he might come across Ron, and maybe he'll be able to help him with his situation. And if he doesn't, late-night Floo calls are still allowed between two grown adults, right?

Deciding that, he picks up some Floo powder and throws it into the fireplace.

"Ministry of Magic," says Harry clearly, before stepping into the green flames.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Shut up," Harry grumbles as he swooshes inside the Ministry lab, followed by a giggling Oogway.

"You- should- have- seen- your- face!" Oogway nearly sits on a dead body, shrieking a moment later as he touches a cold hand.

Harry ignores the laughing git. Instead, he focuses on the large, plump woman. "Mallory, you got something for me?"

Mallory sniffs at them before pointing at their dead man. "I dae all this work for yer all. And I do nae even get an account of why Oogway is losin' his marbles?"

"Potter fell out of the floo!"

Mallory raises her eyebrow. "It stops becomin' funny when he does it the hundredth time. Your sense of humour needs up-gradation." She turns towards Harry, ignoring a protesting Oogway. "I 'ave been informed by Robards and this lot tha you're tae be the team lead?"

Harry startles. "No one told me anything about this! I'm not leading the case!"

Parvati snorts and hands him a letter. "Robards told us to give this to you. After he informed us that he’s assigning us, of course. He was waiting when I arrived."

"When did you arrive?"

"Right away. Didn't go home."

He opens the letter and finds a couple of sentences in severe handwriting.

_ Potter, I'm making you the team lead. Meet me at the office after Mallory is done. I need to talk to you about your case. Robards. _

"I guess, I am leading you guys," Harry says faintly, his growing irritation ignoring the way Samson whoops, Martin grunts, and Parvati smiles.  _ Robards is going to have quite an earful for putting Ginny's safety secondary, _ he thinks a bit viciously.

Mallory rolls her eyes. "Come o' then. I 'ave things tae tell yer. Your team is holdin' me up and I need tae get a report done."

"First and foremost, did you find his eyes?" asks Parvati eagerly.

"Your killer didnae shove them up in his arse if you're askin' tha'. Our man is missin' his eyes and his kidneys. He was dehydrated and scarrin' o' his hands and legs indicate he was tied up. Dent on the head indicates blunt force trauma. I found out tha' someone had twisted his hand completely, makin' it the bloody mess it is right' now."

"His hand was twisted and we didn't notice?" Parvati gasps.

"Yes, Patil. He had high flexibility. Some people can do tha'. Few, tho'. Might be a bi' o' a nasty shock for those unaccustomed to this. Probably done before his death, as Rigour Mortis has set in. His was done to hurt him tho'. Maybe, tryin' to escape the killer's hold. I'd poot his death sometime between 1 to 2 am."

"Don't hands stay stretched out in this position?" Harry asks.

Mallory gives him a rare smile. "Nae always. The Rigour Mortis hasn't passed yet. It can take anywhere between eight to thirty-six hours. "

Lewandowicz interrupts, "And those runic inscriptions?"

"Now, the mos' interesting part." Mallory grabs her wand and does a spell which lights up the runes on the corpse. "I may nae know much bout runes, but I did 'ave a class in ma training where we were taught the different types. These are futhark. These are Anglo-Saxon runes, derived from the Elder Futhark. They 'ave been obsolete fae ages, but I was told tha it is still used in some secret societies. Nefarious cults, if I say so myself."

A dark cloud seems to descend on everyone in the room. Even Oogway, who had been jovial while poking the dead body, looks pale.

"Y cha fi!" Lewandowicz sneers, his muscular frame trembling with disgust.

"Yeah...I dinnae much and am gon refer yer people tae a Runes specialist. I can tell yer, tho' tha' this one--" she points to a flag-like design "--is fehu. This stands for one or 'wealth.' Whatever happened tae your mate here is related tae someone who knew anatomy and runes."

"It's murder, then?" Oogway jumps in. "No wild animal could have caused his death?"

Mallory points at the open gut. "See the way his torso has been cut open? Nae animal can tear it open so cleanly. It was done by steady hands, most probably by a single stroke. Cause of death looks tae be excessive bleedin'. I do nae envy you findin' out this one. Seems like a deranged psychopath was let loose."

"The specialist you talked about?" Harry asks.

"Amara Okello. She works in the Magical Institute of Ancient Studies. She's a translator there and is well known for her spot-on interpretations. She's the one Curse Breakers usually consult when they stumble upon dreadful inscriptions. Go and tell her Linnea Mallory has sent you."

"Did you find any mark or something that we can use for finding his identity?" Harry stores away the information, not surprised to see Martin writing it down.

"There's a big mole under his left ear, as big as the tip of ma thumb." Mallory sighs and hands them the photographs of the body. "Good luck. Seems like yer will need it."

* * *

“Parvati—”

“I don’t care, Harry. I’m not being the lead,” Parvati whispers back furiously.

Harry wants to shout at her, but that would not help him in his situation.

“Listen,” he keeps his voice level, “I have some things to take care of. I can’t take this position. And you’ve been vying for a better position for ages!”

Parvati stops suddenly, making him almost crash into her.

“If you had bothered to pay attention, I was aiming to get out of sodding fieldwork!” She hisses back at him.

Harry doesn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the Ministry hallway, but Parvati’s expression makes him rethink his decision to grab her and lead her away.

“I think—”

“You are the worst sodding prick who doesn’t know how to give up. That makes you perfect for this position! Who else can lead it? Oogway? Really, Harry? Do you trust him with taking control? Or Lewandowicz? The man who just wants to return to his kids? Or do you want some other Auror to swoop in and take this case?” 

Harry tries to interrupt her, but Parvati seems to be on a roll.

“The only other option that we have is to give up this case to the other plonkers. Dawlish is waiting for this opportunity, that arse. And Proudfoot is too non-confrontational to fight for it. Let’s face it – this one’s a gold mine and you’d be a pillock if you let this one go to their hands!”

Parvati stares him down before leaving a gobsmacked Harry behind her.

“Don’t be an idiot, Potter!”

“Easy for her to say,” he grumbles under his breath. His annoyance at Robards intensifies at Parvati’s remark and he dashes towards his office. 

“What?!” He bites out at a man giving him odd looks, his feet carrying him forward. He doesn’t wait around to see what the man to stutter out a reply.

Harry doesn’t even wait for the receptionist to announce him to the Head Auror. He bangs on the door with a lack of decorum, forcing the recipient to reply.

"All right! Come in," he hears Robards grumble, "and close the bloody door that you’re about to break. I'm surrounded by idiots who aren't taught manners."

Harry swooshes inside, his anger having steadily grown in the last fifteen minutes that it took to leave Parvati and reach the Head Auror's office. He finds Robards sitting at his table, his glasses pushed over his greying head and his desk full of paperwork. Robards looks as stern as usual, but as he notices Harry's entrance, his frown lines disappear.

"Potter," he says gruffly, "you're earlier than usual."

Ignoring the gibe about his usual tardiness, Harry asks, "Why have I been placed in the Llandudno case?" His voice remains steady, but his words carry an undercurrent of anger.

Robards raises an eyebrow. "I'd watch the tone. Manners are still a thing in this office, even if you aren't going to show up every day."

Harry snaps. "So, Ginny's safety comes secondary?! I was sent there-I WENT there-to keep my girlfriend safe! But you not only assigned me to a new case-YOU made me the team LEAD!"

He sees his boss smirk a bit, his eyes twinkling in a way reminiscent of Dumbledore. "How's Ms Weasley? I hope she's content with your relocation."

Harry glares at him. "Ginny is fine. We're perfect. She looks better every day and there hasn't been a note since that day. I do hope that your decision doesn't make her look any less alive."

Robards finally seems to have decided that Harry has crossed a line. "Sit," he commands and points to the chair opposite to him. 

Grumbling under his breath,  Harry sits and resists the urge to trash Robard's office out of spite.

"I've let you rant for a long time here. Now, you will sit and listen to me. Then, you're allowed to cry over your situation like a ninny," Robards ignores his protest, "and you can ask questions. Am I clear?" 

Harry hesitates before nodding.

Robards nods and hands him a file."Do you have any identification on the victim?"

"Not yet. We know very few things about him. He has an average height, black hair with a mole under his left ear."

"This is the file of the victim. His name is Eugene Salvatore. You probably won't know him, but Salvatore is a well-known Seer in Croatia. He has garnered a reputation of knowing things normal people aren't bound to have. But still, he is an obscure figure, not someone extraordinary on International standards. Until that article." Robards points at the file.

Harry opens the file and sees a few newspaper clippings. The first one had the smiling, and looking distinctly alive, photo of Salvatore, his eyes dark and vacant even in the black and white photograph. The headline catches his eye:  _ Wizard proclaims that the Prophecy of the Cranossium is around the corner _ .

"Er, what?" Harry asks confusedly.

"Yes," Robards sighs. "Cranossium, as in the cult." Upon seeing Harry's expression, he shakes his head.

"Don't tell me you don't know about these plonkers, Potter. It's not even a magical cult. Well, not completely."

Stung, Harry says tightly, "I'm sorry that I haven't been keeping up to date with cults. Why don't you tell me what I need to know and I'll be on my way?"

The Head Auror shoots him a warning look but doesn't bother chastising him. Instead, he says "Cranossium is a cult, which is considered to be a myth nowadays because no one has been able to prove whether it exists. These individuals are high ranking members of society and crave 'world domination.' I'd say it's a load of bollocks, but I have been receiving intel about the strange nature of how the muggle governments and foreign ministries are shifting power. You've heard about the Sacramento attack in the USA?"

"Horrible business. So many deaths. You didn't dispatch us, though."

"Damn right, I didn't. The MACUSA isn't as lenient as us. They thought it was the work of muggles and wizards united. Had I dispatched you, I would have only received your decapitated head back. Also, I got the intel that Cranossiun might have helped. That cult may not exist, but it's far too visible to be just a string of rumours."

Harry leans forward, his curiosity making him imagine various scenarios. "What's the Prophecy? You think he was killed off for that?"

Robards suddenly looks older than he is. He drags a hand down his face. "I don't know," he admits. "Either the Prophecy or the reason why this man went missing and turned up as a mutilated target dummy. And for that, I need someone reliable in Wales."

"Sir..." Harry starts, but Robards cuts him off.

"Ginny's safety won't be compromised. The minute we spot any suspicious activity in the Quidditch front, I'll reassign you. But, I do think you'll be the best fit for the job. You want to find out who did it, don’t you?"

Harry nods hesitantly. No use lying about it to a long-time Auror.

"Then, get to it. You have Patil, Oogway, and Lewandowicz under your command. If needs be, I'd assign you a few more. Understood?"

Harry nods and stands up. He heads to the door and opens it. Just before he is about to head out, he hears, "Potter?"

He turns around and sees Robards with an odd expression on his face.

"Yes, Sir?" 

"If you feel that you're too close to Ms Weasley's situation, I'll have someone else assigned to her. You just need to say the word."

"I'll be fine, Sir," he says forcefully.

Robards stares at him for a while before nodding sharply. "Okay, then. Leave and close the damn door behind you for once."

* * *

  
  


Ginny looks at him in surprise when he enters through the fireplace and immediately trips.

"Worst magical invention. Ever. Not as bad as Apparition, but it's bloody annoying," he grumbles as Ginny helps him to his feet, but not before snorting at his lack of grace.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone cock up Flooing after they have been using it for a decade." She disappears to go and hang his cloak, her voice still sounding mirthful. "You truly are a rarity, Potter."

"Well, someone has to do it." He takes out a butterbeer from the cupboard.

Ginny returns, her face practically glowing. He tries to keep the bottle on the counter, but his stupid brain doesn't comprehend the distance. Ginny snorts when she sees him hastily trying to catch it.

"I was going to start dinner. You are later than I thought you'd be." She flicks her wand and a pot comes flying out of a cupboard. "I hope you don't mind me making some soup and salad. I am knackered! Plus, Tahira was telling us about the greasiest pizza she has ever had. I took great pleasure in telling her how many raw eggs I had this morning. But her story has done enough damage to my appetite."

"Sounds like something that she'll do. I'll help you. Let me change my clothes. Today was...Well, today was awful."

"All right?" Ginny asks worriedly.

Fondness blooms in him and he smiles. Harry hesitantly touches her face. Gently, he leans down and kisses her at the corner of her mouth, waiting for Ginny to smack him for crossing an invisible line. Drawing back, he sees her face redden and he smiles. "I'm fine. The bloke, on the other hand..."

Although her face is glowing like a setting sun, she manages to smirk at him. "And now there's another bloke? I feel jealous."

Harry snorts before heading to the bedroom to change. "No need to be jealous. I like my men less maimed." His voice sounds muffled as he tugs on a shirt. "And the way he was showing his gut? Scandalous!"

"Please, tell me this one also wasn't a die-hard Quidditch fan and extremely fit. I will need to do something to stake my claim, then," she says as soon as he enters the kitchen, her voice light.

He immediately freezes. Ginny looks at him when he stays silent for too long. "What?" she asks.

"You--" he clears his throat. "You, erm, know about..." he gestures vaguely with his hand.

She stares at him in confusion for some time. "That you like boys? That you had a boyfriend? Um, yeah? I mean, Ron told me that you and Brian were hitting it off."

"I like girls too!" His voice sounds panicky, but she rolls her eyes in ease.

"I know, Harry." She tries to sound patient. "You like boys and girls. And?" She continues to chop the onions.

Harry stares at her for a while. "I thought it'd be a bigger issue if you had known," he admits quietly.

Ginny looks at him in surprise. She sees something in his face, which softens her expression. Patting her hands on the outrageously orange apron, she moves towards him. Within seconds, she has him in her arms, her grip as tight as Mrs Weasley's. She holds him as if she's trying to share something with him, protecting him from a stray curse.

"Harry..." her voice warbles, but she pushes through. "Harry, it doesn't matter." He stiffens and Ginny backtracks. "It matters! But not in that way. Not- it doesn't change who you are. In the end, you're just Harry. Our Harry."

Harry eases himself out of her arms. Her eyes shine defiantly, and he wonders whether he's a bit in love with her.

"I know. I know. It's just- Ron and Hermione are different. He helped me through it. I-I am not yet ready to..."

"It's okay." She rubs his arms in a soothing motion. "No one will look at you any differently."

Upon seeing Harry's look of disbelief, she lets out a laugh. "They won't! Mum still harbours some hope that Charlie will settle down. And when she caught me snogging Luna, she--"

Harry's jaw drops. "Er?"

Ginny throws him a look before starting to chop the onions again. "Well, Luna and I were together for a while before she left to travel the world. Close your mouth. And yes, I like girls too. My point is that no one will think of you as anyone other than Harry."

He picks up the lettuce and a knife and starts chopping too. "Why-why didn't you say anything?"

She shrugs. "I don't define myself by the boys and the girls that I like. And it's not as if we ever talked about relationships and crushes."

It is true; his hopeless crush on her never made him comfortable enough to discuss their love lives. He never said that outright, but Ginny always had this habit of picking up his discomfort.  _ She's the best, _ he thinks warmly.

"Yeah. We didn't. Maybe, we can start today?" He prods hesitantly. Ginny gives him a beaming smile and tears off the chicken's leg.

"Who are you even crushing on when you have the world's most beautiful girlfriend? Do I still have competition?" She strikes a weird pose. "With this body?" He takes the moment to ogle her bum. Ginny smiles knowingly at him.

Harry starts to bring up the topic that they should be discussing. But Ginny's glowing face stops him. He allows himself to be selfish. She will undoubtedly pull back from him, and he doesn't want to bear the pain of losing her. 

_ And haven't I spent years pretending that I've never wanted her like this? _ he thinks.  _ Haven't I sacrificed enough? I deserve this. _

Harry chuckles. "Let me tell you a few things about the other guy. He doesn't hold a candle to you, but you might find him interesting."

She smirks at him. "He's trying to steal you. You better give me a good reason why you are considering him as my replacement."

"Absolutely." Harry shakes his head and flicks a small slice of lettuce at her. "May I interest you with the story of how I met my corpse husband?"

Her eyes glitter as she chops the vegetables. She looks beautiful. She always does. "You may. Infidelity is frowned upon, though."

"As it should be." He sees her open her mouth. "Now, hush. If you keep on talking, you'll never get the gist of how I met the one."

"Wanker," she mutters under her breath.

Ignoring that, Harry starts, "So I was called to Conwy Beach..."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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